


Sauvage

by covetsubjugation



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), The Purge (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Blow Jobs, Existentialism, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 23:03:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5108843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/covetsubjugation/pseuds/covetsubjugation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dan and Phil fail to leave the country in time, they are trapped in the UK during the most dangerous time of the year. What are they to do when their safe house gets broken into during The Purge?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sauvage

**Author's Note:**

> Quick reminder of several trigger warnings: Violence, Sexual Harassment
> 
> Sauvage is French for wild, I'm not misspelling my own title.

He can feel his palms sweating.

Dan transfers the white bags over to one hand and wipes the other on his jeans. They skid right across the fabric.

There is still a full 12 hours to go, 720 minutes but the streets are already emptying. All around him, he can hear the clack of doors being locked in his wake, of blinds being drawn as the day slowly begins. Even the street lights are flickering.

The plastic bags are weighing him down.

In the store, he was practically the only one there. The shelves were almost clear of food and he had grabbed what he could, making sure to avoid all eye contact with anyone else, just in case he made an enemy at the worst possible moment.

Even the shop assistants were almost shaking with adrenaline, he could see it in their too bright smiles, and wide frantic eyes constantly flicking over the the ticking clock on the wall, begging for their shift to be over so they could sprint home. They had shoved the bags over to him with a loud goodbye that had made him wince as he left.

He is walking too loudly. His shoes land with a sharp slap on the concrete pavement, the bags rustle in his hand, and his heart is beating so fast, he's surprised the walls aren't shaking with the reverberation.

The key scrapes in the lock and he fumbles torturously slow, struggling to get it to turn. He imagines someone's eyes on him and it only makes him panic more. Finally, the door unlocks and he hurries in, almost tripping over himself in his haste. He nearly slams it shut but catches himself in time, and simply silently slides the door close.

The pencil markings on the wall indicates all his neighbours are home and so he bolts the door shut, turning the lock twice in an effort to increase what protection they have.

There's a shoe cabinet left in front of the stairs and he drags it across the ground as quietly as possible, grunting as he does so. The front door is now blocked by the tall shoe cabinet and he can't really imagine anyone being able to kick it down, so he turns to go up the stairs.

When he reaches their own floor, he can see that the lights in the neighbour's house are already off, like they have been for the last week. He supposes they left the country for the week and he frowns, questioning why he hasn't done the same.

He knocks on their door twice, thrice and then once, before he opens it. Quietly he shuts the door behind him, locking it twice for good measure, and he hisses up the stairwell in concern.

"Phil?" he says. "You home?"

Phil's head pops out from behind the door and he sighs in relief. The older man creeps down the stairs and with his help, they maneuver one of their heavier things, which is incidentally a bookshelf, to block their door as well.

"You okay?" Phil whispers in his ear and he nods back in answer. Together, they gather the plastic bags in their arms and head back to Phil’s room. Again, once the food has been settled in their rooms, they barricade their house with even more furniture, and then they turn off their lights.

Phil's candles are fetched, and they settle in his bedroom, pressed together from shoulder to thigh, surrounded by the darkness and watching the candles flicker with their every breath.

"Why didn't we leave?" Dan huffs quietly. "We should have escaped to another country for the week."

Phil shrugs his shoulders, Dan can feel their clothes rubbing together.

"I don't know," he answers and Dan vaguely sees Phil's mouth set in an unhappy line in the unsteady light. "It was never this bad at home, or in Manchester, and with everything this year, it must have slipped our minds."

They retreat into silence again and find themselves staring down at their floor in contemplation.

Technically they aren't in danger yet for the next 24 hours but still they are going to play it safe.

The wifi had been shut off since yesterday, just in case anyone was checking for internet activity to search for their latest victims. The lights had been shut off for the last week, to fool anyone looking in into thinking that the house was empty. All the blinds were drawn and for any rooms without them, sheets were draped over the windows. The windows had also been boarded up. They had even sent out tweets, claiming to be overseas for a holiday.

They should have just left the country.

He startles when he feels Phil nudging his shoulder but it is simply the other man handing him a cup of water. They drink in mutual silence and Dan reaches out now and then to grip Phil's knee, just to make sure he's real.

Sometimes Phil does the exact same thing to him.

They would be sleeping together in Phil's room for the next day, which was the most secure, seeing as the lounge could be accessed by the fire escape. The windows were barred, but all the same, he still doesn’t feel very safe.

He doesn’t dare to check his phone, or his watch for that matter, for the time. It could have been 10 minutes since he came home, it could have been 2 hours, it might have even been 10. Did time even really matter when they couldn’t really save themselves?

He looks up to stare at the cupboard at the door, only to notice that Phil is staring at him. His eyes are green in the dim light.

“Yeah?” he murmurs and Phil blinks once as if that should be sufficient to say everything and Dan runs his hand through his hair, oily from the lack of a shower. He shakes his head in mock amusement, he can’t believe he is going to die with oily, curly hair.

On the other side of the closed blinds, the streets are quiet, he can barely hear anything, even the birds are silent, as if they know what it is going to happen. The sun rises high in the sky, and just as slowly, makes its descent. He doesn’t even have the energy to feel hungry, all he can feel is a ball of fear low in his gut, but he forces himself to eat anyway. He is going to need energy if he has to survive the night.

The clock on the shelf ticks ominously, and Dan goes through their precautions in his head. They had boarded up all of their windows, and shoved all of their furniture in front of the doors. They had even built a wall in front of the corridor leading to their rooms, and installed shutters behind it, with another wall for good measure. From the outside, it would have looked as if the house just ended there.

There is even more furniture blocking Phil’s door, not limited to Phil’s bed and Dan’s piano. He has no idea how they are even going to put everything back at the end but it is better than dying in the night.

The sun has almost set and what little light that could enter the room is almost gone. Their first candles are almost gone and both of them pull out their phone simultaneously and turn it off. It isn’t going to help them anyway.

The panic is creeping at his throat and he grips at his own thigh to stop himself from shaking. There’s a slight orange glow creeping into the room and he knows the streetlights are on. It is almost time.

The only thing he can hear is the sound of their breathing.

The blaring alarm cuts through the still tense silence easily, and even though they had been waiting for this moment, they jump in fear. Phil’s hand finds his and they clutch at each other as the monotonous hollow voice echoes throughout the street.

“This is not a test.

This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the Annual Purge sanctioned by the U.K. Government.

Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted. Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed.

Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7 a.m., when The Purge concludes.

Blessed be our New Founding Fathers and Great Britain, a nation reborn. May God be with you all.”

*

"I hate that thing," Phil says. It's the first words he said in a long while.

Outside, there's a loud scream. The voice is male, pitched in terror. Laughter follows the sound.

"The announcement?" he questions, keeping his voice low. He doesn't want to attract the attention of those outside, as unlikely as it is.

Phil shakes his head vehemently. "'May God be with you all'", he quotes and his face is screwed up in disgust. "We don’t deserve any ‘well wishes’.”

His shoulders are up by his ears, and it can't be comfortable but Dan can see Phil is in distress. He himself agrees but he's drawing a blank, and he can't think of what to say to make it better. Somehow, saying "Just remember all the good The Purge does" doesn't seem quite appropriate.

The person is begging now, gasps breaking up their continuous pleas. It would be a messy death, he knows. Guns aren't allowed in the UK, and unless someone managed to steal one from the national guard, it is quite unlikely that the person would simply be shot to death.

"How would you prefer to die?" Dan asks and he nearly slaps himself at the terrified look that Phil gives him.

"I meant," he hastens to clarify before the other man can pull away from him. "If you were caught in the middle of The Purge, and you could choose how they killed you, what would you choose?"

The look still doesn’t fade away so Dan just comments, "Too soon?" and forgets about it. He reaches into his back pocket, and pulls out the stack of cards there. He hands it to Phil, just to get him to stop looking at him like that, and asks, "Do you want to play Cheat?"

It's a simple game, one that wouldn't cause him to get excited and shout out mistakenly, but it is entertaining and should get them through at least two hours.

The person outside has stopped screaming at least.

They play for a few hours in near silence, calling out ascending or descending numbers, keeping an eye on each other. "Two sixes," Dan says and Phil looks at him and smiles tiredly.

"That's a lie," he states and flips over the last few cards that Dan had laid down. Sure enough, there's a king and a joker, but no sixes.

"Dammit," he hisses. "You're good at this, but how could you tell?" He couldn't really care about how Phil knew, but he feels more comforted now that Phil has smiled at him. The blue eyed man tsks at him. "I'm not telling you," he teases but he is in a better mood than he was just now, and that's all that matters.

The skies are very dark now, and the candles cast haunting shadows on the walls. All around them, they can hear malicious laughter and screams. Someone down the street is sobbing and cursing.

It has only been 3 hours, judging by the glinting silver of Phil's watch, but already it feels like a lifetime. They can play as much Cheat as they want, but it can't distract them from the fact that people around them are dying.

"Do you want to put the light out?" Phil asks, and the lines of stress are creeping back around his eyes, his smile faltering.

Dan hates it. He hates having to see Phil like this, in clear distress and being unable to do anything about it. The agreement flies out of his mouth and he watches as Phil leans forward to blow out the candle.

Now the darkness surrounds them, he can’t see as his eyes haven't adjusted yet. The fear momentarily overtakes him and he reaches out to grab Phil's thigh again.

His hand bumps into something more knobbly than the flesh of Phil's thigh and he flinches before he can feel a dry palm wrapping around his outstretched hand.

They hold hands in the dark, fingers clutched tight as something smashes outside. Slivers of a vibrant orange creep in and a flickering sound is heard, and they both know the shop outside has been set on fire.

"Why would people do this?" Dan isn't sure if it is Phil or him who said it, but he breathes a little heavier just the same.

"It's a release," he answers and he can feel the warmth of Phil's body leaning closer. He swallows but his throat is dry.

"Release from?" the other man asks. They are touching again, from shoulder to thigh, and he is secretly glad for the touchstone next to him.

"Primitive emotions?" he tries. "A throwback to when it was killed or be killed, when the strongest person was the one who fought them all and won? We're all just savages really, it's just that we have an excuse to be who we are now."

There's a rustle as Phil shakes his head. "I don't believe that," he huffs. "We have evolved, we don't need to kill people for survival. We know strength doesn't equal to murder, we aren't bloodthirsty predators."

"Of course we know that," he points out. "But do we know that?"

He can almost hear Phil pouting in the dark. "We may have evolved when it comes down to no longer being cavemen," Dan continues. "But at an opportunity like this, when we have a chance to get back to our bloodstained roots, who's to stop us? Maybe there's a part of our brain which we have locked up, which stops us from turning into rampaging murderers, but on this night, we all manage to tap into it and just go."

Phil huffs. "You know that's not how the brain works."

Dan smiles over at him. "Yeah, but it's an interesting theory."

Silence falls again and he thinks it's the end of the discussion, when Phil speaks again. "I don't want to believe your theory," he says in a low voice. "But I don't want to believe the alternative.

"What's the alternative?" Dan asks. The grip on his hand tightens briefly and when Phil speaks again, he has to strain to hear it under the sound of a flickering flame.

"If we’re not all secretly savages, that means we're doing this for fun."

*

Is there really anything to be said after that?

It’s a terrifying thought. The human race growing desensitised to death, treating murder like they would treat a children’s toy. The loss of morals, treating life lightly, it scares him. And judging by the shallow breathing of the man next to him, it scares Phil too.

“Wow,” he says, licking his dry lips in attempt to crack a joke. “Lost all my faith in humanity.”

The grip on his hand loosens and his eyes are adjusted enough that he can see Phil hunched in a ball, eyes fixated on their wooden floor. He immediately feels bad and shuffles tentatively closer.

“Sorry,” he apologises, “That was a bad joke.”

Phil buries his face in his arms and he shakes his head. “No,” the man says, voice muffled. “It’s not you, it’s not your fault. I’m just way too sensitive right now.”

Dan frowns in response. “What, no!” he objects. “You aren’t ‘being sensitive’, this is life and death. We have literally barricaded ourselves inside our own house, the shop next door is on fire, and we may have heard someone dying. If you weren’t upset, I would be worried. Being upset just means you’re still human, you’re still okay.”

There’s quiet and then a watery sniff. “Thanks Dan,” the other man thanks him and there’s a flash of blue eyes when Phil lifts his head up to look at him. His eyes are shining with unshed tears, but he settles against Dan’s arm and leans his head onto his shoulder. Black hair tickles his neck but it doesn’t make him flinch and he simply relaxes, spine slumping forward.

Usually, there’s a line between them. A fine line, but a line nonetheless. It wasn’t always there, but it had grown in the last few years, like a festering wound. It is seldom that they get to take comfort in each other like this, but sitting in the dark excuses a lot of things.

Outside, a war rages. People are dying, choking on their own blood, as murderers get away with their crime. Fear is tangible, it clots the air as people gag on its thick effluvium. Shops have been looted, valuables have been stolen, anarchy reigns.

But for them, for a little while at least, there’s peace. They found comfort in each other in the dark, and they hold on to it. They still aren’t safe but indulging in the pretense is allowed for now.

*

A little while later, someone screams. A female voice this time. It’s incoherent and hysterical, and Dan feels Phil lean closer into him. “Dan,” comes the familiar voice. “Why did we break up?”

He stiffens up immediately, his chest tightens and he turns his head to gaze at the wall. He can just make out the old markings from Phil’s posters and he looks at them for longer than necessary. His movement had displaced the older man and he can feel his eyes on him. He itches a little.

“Is this really the time to talk about it?” he asks, hoping to deflect the question, but of course, Phil just moves in closer. Their shoulders brush when he shrugs.

“Well, when we have all and none of the time in the world, we might as well,” the man insists with a wry tone and Dan shakes his head.

"I would really rather not," he answers. "And it isn't like we haven't talked about this before, we have had this discussion already." He can't meet Phil's eyes, can't meet the steady gaze that peers up at him from his shoulder.

"You weren't completely honest with me then," Phil says. "And neither was I."

"Says who?" he sneers, and his voice grows pitched in his anger.

"Says us," is the retort and there's a brush of fingers on his shoulder before Phil grips it. "I want," he hesitates. "I want to talk about it."

"We grew apart, Phil. We just didn't work," Dan grits out.

"Are you sure?" Phil demands. "Because from what I see, we work pretty well. And if anything, we grew closer. We signed a lease for another two years, you know. Four years of living together, and that's just in London."

He's irrationally angry, he knows that. Phil isn't lying, what he is arguing is all pretty true. But he doesn't want to think about it, doesn't want to think about the time they were together, and the awful time they suddenly weren't. He doesn’t want to say something that he will regret so he keeps his mouth shut and he fumes.

He can feel the heat of Phil's body with every breath he takes, feel the continuous stare lingering on his face. There's a breath or two where he thinks Phil is not going to back down, where he thinks Phil is going to wait until he gives his answer, but it passes when Phil leans back.

His heart feels a little heavier though when Phil shifts back even further and he finally turns to look at him, only for the usually expressive face to fall into a neutral mask.

Phil picks up his watch from where it laid on the floor and reads it. "11:42," he announces stoically. "I'm going to sleep."

Dan clears his dry throat. "I'll keep watch," he answers and there's a brief flicker of recognition on Phil's face when he remembers their situation. But he doesn't say anything else, only nods before lying down.

He tries to look away but ends watching Phil from the corner of his eye, wriggling on the floor to get comfortable. He listens to Phil's breathing and keeps track of time using only that, the rhythmic movement of air entering and leaving the human body next to him.

Eventually, Phil's breathing slows and Dan is left alone. Despite the term 'keeping watch', there's nothing much to actually see. It's more of keeping an ear out than actually staring at anything.

He listens to the sound of the girl outside, who is yelling as she swears. Her voice is louder than it was just now, and he figures that she must been a street or two away, before running here to escape her attackers.

It's a dead end street and there's nowhere for her to go, unless she manages to climb over the fences lining the alleys. There's a metallic crash, and another, and she must have grabbed what she could to protect herself, which would have been the lone rubbish bin.

She screeches out an obscenity, as multiple crashes follow, sounding as if something is hitting the rubbish bin repeatedly, without mercy.

"Fuck you!" Dan hears. "Fuck you, you son a bitch, you fucking motherfucker-" There's a sickening crack, and her voice dies. His blood runs cold in his veins. The girl has been hit, and now she’s most likely dead.

In addition to the fire outside, they would have to clear up at least two dead bodies outside, and Dan shudders at the thought of the unmarked cars driving up to his street tomorrow, carting away the dead bodies.

There's a faint murmur on the street and he freezes. The girl's attacker was still outside, potentially in front of his house. Without his original target around anymore, anyone could be next.

He holds his breath as the murmur grows slightly louder. There's a tap outside, like a foot hitting cement, and he prays that the attacker is not looking at his house, and is not planning anything.

He holds his breath until his lungs get tight and only when he hears the person walking away, does he relax. Phil's watch reads 12:59 and he knows the man has only been sleeping for an hour, but he wakes him up anyway.

"Your turn," he says in response to the groggy grumble. He lies down on the wooden flooring and once his hip is not jabbing uncomfortably into the ground, he forces his eyes shut.

His heart is still beating uncomfortably fast, and he is wound up from the incident outside. He must look very stressed so all of a sudden, there's a gentle touch on his head and he can feel Phil's hand stroking through his hair.

The thought of Phil touching his unwashed hair makes him relax a little, and his heart slows. And to the soft patting of his hair, Dan silently drifts off to sleep.

*

Dan always looks much relaxed when he’s asleep, Phil thinks to himself.

He’s still frustrated that Dan didn’t want to talk about them, also a little angry that Dan had woken him up after one hour of sleep. But for now, he can forgive the younger guy.

It’s sometimes easy to forget that Dan is four years younger than him, when he swears like nobody’s business and he is so wrapped up in the universe and his place in it. Not to mention he has shot up since they first met and now with Dan towering over him, it just seems that Dan is older than his years.

He knows four years isn’t much when it comes down to it, but it means that he had lived through four more years of The Purge than Dan has. He doesn’t remember much of it when he was younger, mostly it’s the images of his family members’ pale faces that has stuck with him. He remembers the noisy week before The Purge would start, when they would begin packing things up to either leave the country or to barricade themselves within their own house. He understands now why they had lived in such a remote area.

But here, in the busy streets of London, with nothing but a makeshift wall and piles of furniture to protect them, he can’t help but feel more than a little bit unsafe.

He keeps looking over at the boarded up windows, the fuzzy shapes blocking the door and he panics each time he sees the little slivers of light creep into the room. Cracks meant that the windows weren’t boarded up carefully enough, cracks meant that they were still unsafe.

He resists the urge to pry the boards off the windows and redo them, knowing that the noise would most likely attract attention, and redoing the windows means that if anyone was outside, they would immediately know that they had not left the house.

There’s a muted snuffle and his eyes shoot down to Dan again. Dan is curled up on the floor, head mere millimeters away from his leg. His eyes are closed, but unlike the whole of this week, there weren’t lines of stress on his face, no constantly furrowed brow. He looks more relaxed than he has this whole week.

Phil envies him. He envies his ability to sleep soundly despite the turmoil outside. Even during his pitiful hour nap, he could still hear the voice of the screaming woman outside, fighting tooth and nail for her life. The street is quieter now, the fire may have even died down. But he still feels as if he is walking on a tightrope, nerves stretched to their limit.

Absentmindedly, he reaches out, intending to stroke Dan’s head but he stops. Dan isn’t much for physical contact, he knows this from the years they’ve spent together. He doesn’t want to think too much about how Dan had allowed him to rest against his shoulder just now, how Dan had been relaxed when they were pressed tightly together under the cover of darkness. But his heart betrays him, and thumps hopefully and Phil knows that after today ends, he is doomed.

So he thinks about something else instead.

But there isn’t much to think about when you are hiding away in your own house, trying to wait out The Purge. His thoughts naturally lead him to think about The Purge and the discussion that he and Dan had had earlier.

He wants to believe that there is good in the world, that human beings aren’t inherently evil. But that is difficult to believe when a government sanctioned killing spree was occurring throughout the United Kingdom at that exact moment.

If he was being honest, there was no good way to think of The Purge, no matter what anyone claimed. Even if Dan was correct and they were all doing this so as to release their inner beasts, and indulge in their natural murderous behaviour, that meant that this willingness to commit crime, their skewed ethics was an ingrained part of nature. And that wasn’t exactly fun to think about.

But if Dan was wrong, and they were doing this for fun, that wasn’t exactly pleasant either. Human lives should not be taken lightly, and yet here they were, with the number of deaths determining The Purge’s success. And they were meant to celebrate that.

Of course, there was another alternative, something that he had not shared with Dan yet. There were theories online, the odd conspiracy that he would stumble across online. There were rumours that The Purge wasn’t just a ‘cleansing’, that it was actually the government’s way of population control. Of them purposefully targeting the lower class.

There were stories floating around, of government authorised squads that trooped around and killed even more people, to fit quotas. People had claimed to meet them, claimed to have seen them storming into houses in the rundown parts of London and killing anyone inside. A small portion of these stories claimed to come from survivors, who managed to escape by the skin of their teeth, but left families and friends behind to die.

It was made so much worse by the fact that these stories were believable. Afterall, The Purge was already authorised by the government in the first place, who’s to say they hadn’t tried to go even further?

Phil isn’t sure which was worse, an inhumane government squads or inhuman people.

There are four hours of The Purge left to go, and despite his fears, his eyes are already gradually closing on him. He is about to reach over and wake Dan up when he hears it. The unmistakable sound of someone trying to open a blocked door.

“Dan!” he hisses, violently shaking the younger man’s shoulder. “Wake up!”

There is a brief moment of groggy confusion, but when the loud bang repeats again, his eyes widens in fear and he shoots up.

“Oh god,” he breathes, fear evident in every syllable. There is a loud chanting outside, of violent jeering and booing as the door refuses to open. What little that can open bangs on the side of the shoe cabinet. Phil has no doubt that the whole building is currently sitting up in their beds, wide eyed and breathless.

He flies to the bedroom door, and tries to push everything more securely against it as quietly as possible. But he barely moves anything by an inch when Dan pulls him back, and with a finger to his lips, he hands something over to Phil.

His fingers have just barely closed around the handle when he recognises the shape. Dan has just handed him the kitchen knife. His eyes flies up to the younger man, who nods firmly at him, even as his face drains of colour. He beckons him over to the side, where they will be blocked from others’ line of sight when they first enter.

“If anyone comes in,” Dan whispers, lips brushing the shell of his eyes as words emerge from his mouth, “Run. Stab them if necessary.”

He recoils, but Dan shakes his head and grips his hand tightly. “I know you don’t want to kill anyone,” he urges. “But right now, The Purge is still ongoing. And we have to survive for at least another four hours. It’s kill or be killed. You have to protect yourself, okay?”

There’s a sick feeling in his gut, but they both know Dan is right. They may be able to hide behind their false wall, but if their defence falls, they will be dead. Unless they defend themselves.

The pressure on his hand increases even more, and he meets Dan’s eyes to see him staring intensely at him. “Promise me,” he grits out through his teeth.

“I-I-” he stammers, but he steels himself and he looks Dan straight in the eye. He has to survive. “I promise,” he says. “But you have to promise too.”

Dan smiles at him, and this smile is different from anything he has ever seen from him before. It’s a little wild, a little dead, but it’s filled with grim promise and that’s good enough, he guesses.

“I promise.”

*

The door bangs incessantly now and the scorn grows ever louder with each failed attempt. The crowd has taken to slamming themselves against the door with loud grunts. He can only imagine the number of bruises that they have covering their shoulders.

Phil knows from experience that as time dwindles down, if the spontaneous killing isn’t easy, they are more likely to give up and go in search of an easier target. And as half an hour passes, and the time slowly creeps up to an hour, he hopes and prays that they will just leave.

The nine hour mark hits and the abuse hits a new high as the crowd screams out their disappointment. He can hear them debating loudly if they should leave or stay on, and there’s an ongoing chant in his head: go away go away go away.

But there is a new sound, a loud victorious cheer and his heart sinks. Someone has brought a game changer.

There’s a sound of an engine revving and his breath catches in his throat. Behind him, he can hear the same hitch in breathing as understanding dawns on them.

“They’re going to run the door down.”

Whooping and screaming ensues, and he can see it in his mind’s eye as it happens. The car reversing backwards as the crowd parts, screaming and thirsting from blood. The engines revs again, and the driver floors it, stamping his foot down on the pedal. The car leaps forward with an angry snarl and the driver watches as he draws nearer and nearer and-

BANG. The apartment almost seems to shake from the impact and the howling crescendos into a frenzy. There’s a pounding of feet on the stairs, and he imagines the crowd scrambling over the car in the front door, shoving each other out of the way to run inside. He can hear door knobs rattling and banging as people demand to be let in. He can’t imagine that with all the noise, it is only a small group that was standing outside.

A large group is bad, it means someone is going to come to their apartment soon. His hold on the knife tightens painfully and his breath punches in and out of him in desperation.

He’s terrified.

He knows they don’t stand much a chance against the crowd outside. At most, they might be able to fight off three and that’s by his most generous estimates. Any more than that, and both of them will be dead.

Or at least one of them.

He freezes and his eyes cut over to the person behind him. Dan, who’s paler than he has ever seen him, hand so tight on his knife, all the blood has drained out of it. Neither of them have ever been in an actual fight, and it doesn’t bode well for them. He imagines having to watch Dan die, being the only one to survive the night.

He feels sick to his stomach. He can’t imagine a life without Dan. Ever since they met all those years ago, their lives has been intertwined together. There is no Dan without Phil, no Phil without Dan.

The pounding feet grow louder and soon enough, he can hear them trying the lock on the door. They growl with frustration when they can’t open it, and he can hear them throwing themselves against the wooden door.

The lock is fighting hard, each shove only making it rattle in its bolt. He holds his breath, afraid to say anything for fear of jinxing their luck. A neighbour screams and Phil knows tomorrow the apartment will be empty and there will be a new one within the month.

He doesn’t want a new neighbour. He doesn’t want anyone to die tonight.

A hand slips into his and he can feel Dan’s clammy palm against his skin. He squeezes the hand tight in comfort and his heartbeat slows for a moment when he can feel pressure back.

But it doesn’t last for the lock gives up. He can hear the metal snap in two and the door flying forward, only to ricochet off the bookshelf and back into their faces. A broken door is enough to work with, and he can hear the door connecting with the bookshelf again as the people try to push it and the bookshelf out of the way.

There’s a steady rumble as books fall off the shelf, the plastic case swaying back and forth with each shove. He winces as he imagines the dog eared books he would have to clean tomorrow. He knows the moment the shelf tumbles, it would be the exact scene from just now, with the crowd swarming over the debris blocking the door, searching for their next victim. They would race up the stairs, and they would be left with only the fake wall to protect them.

He feels himself being pulled around and he spins on the spot to face the younger man on his other side. There’s a wild look in Dan’s eyes, a look that he hasn’t seen in a while, but it is still intimately familiar. Dan lunges forward, his hands grip his shoulders and their bodies are pressed together and there’s suddenly a pair of lips against his.

His eyes slide close and all he can smell is the lingering scent of Dan’s body wash and sweat. His hands cling on to his jumper, fingers pressed tight against the ruffled wool. Dan’s hands are pressed against his face and the pressure is almost dizzing. He tilts his head and licks into Dan’s mouth almost desperately, tasting cherry lip balm. His nose rubs into the soft skin of Dan’s face and he pulls away slightly to release a sigh. Almost immediately, Dan follows him and his chapped lips are pressed against his. Phil kisses down his face and down his neck, and takes joy in the feeling of Dan’s broken off moan when he sucks a bruise into the soft skin there.

“Phil,” he hears Dan pant above him and he feels hands slip down to his shoulders and pull him up. They press their heads together and Phil feels Dan’s breath wash over him with each exhale. His eyes are wide with fear and his hands tremble on his shoulders.

“We broke up,” Dan rushes out desperately as a loud groan sounds from the outside. “We broke up because I was scared. I was scared that we would break up, and you would leave me, and if we ended badly, I would lose you forever. So I broke up with you so we would never have to end badly and I would at least have you as a friend."

“What?” Phil says in confusion. “That’s ridiculous, we were great together!”

“But if we weren’t always going to be great?” Dan asks. “What if it was only temporary? I didn’t want to lose you, but now I realise I made a mistake and I want to rectify it before we die.”

“We’re not going to die!” Phil protests but his words are lost over a bang from below. Cheers rise and footsteps stampede up the stairs, and Dan’s face grow even paler.

“Say you love me,” he demands hoarsely. “Say it.”

The words hesitate on his tongue, and he pauses. He does love Dan, he always has. And if this is really his last chance to say the words that have been on his mind every moment that they’ve been together, he will take it.

“I-”

*

“Where are you?”

The haunting voice interrupts them and without a thought, he pulls both of them flat to the ground. Someone’s outside in their lounge, and that means they are both dangerously close to the false wall. His chest pushes against the floor with every breath and Dan scarcely breathes, fearing that they will somehow hear him.

Footsteps echo through their apartment and he can hear them search the kitchen and lounge. They’ve cleared the latter of anything expensive and there are audible grunts of frustration when there is nothing to be found. Shelves are opened and slammed, and there’s a smash as something made of glass is thrown to the ground.

“Looks like they cleared out,” a female voice speaks, and she spits on the ground in disgust. There are sullen agreements, and Dan knows that if they find nothing of worth, they will leave.

“Shall we fuck this place up?” someone, another female, suggests gleefully. “Burn this place down?” His eyes widen in fear and he whips his head around to stare at Phil. If the flat burns, they don’t have a secure escape route.

“Nah,” a male voice disagrees. “Too many of us in this building. If we burn this flat down, we will die.”

“Does it matter, Tony? It’s not like we are friends.”

“They will get us back,” another male voice cautions. The fourth speaker scoffs.

“Like the people we killed tonight won’t have someone to get revenge next year,” he mocks. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing we’ve done tonight, I vote yes.”

“No!” the fifth speaker protests.

“I agree with Jamie,” Tony puts in and someone growls in protest. But then there’s a stomping of footsteps and someone else shouts up the stairwell, “We’re moving on, two hours of The Purge left!”

There’s a whoop and feet crash out of the room. The band around his chest relaxes a little and Dan sags a little against the ground. He fumbles for Phil’s hand and squeezes it, heart thumping away wildly as the pressure is returned.

“Hey Jamie,” he hears one of the guys, Tony, say and he freezes up again. “Have you noticed that there are no bedrooms in this house?” There’s a pause and hesitant feet on the stairs, growing softer and louder, as one of the two guys checks the house.

“No,” is the reluctant reply and there’s a knock on one of the walls. He can hear them walking around, knocking on each wall. They reach the false wall and knock, and he feels like he is going to be sick.

They knock again and again, before Tony decides. “Sounds a little hollow to me,” he says and there’s a groan. “Tony,” Jamie says. “Everyone’s gone, can we just-”

“Hand me that pickaxe,” Tony interrupts authoritatively. A moment passes, two, and Dan hears a metal clink as he imagines Jamie handing the pickaxe over to the other man. There’s a grunt and a hit, and the false wall crumples like tissue under the pickaxe.

There’s a victorious murmur and Dan turns to look at Phil once more. The blood has drained out of his face, making him look paler than he already is. His breath comes in shallow pants and his eyes are unfocused, staring vacantly at one point on the wall. At Dan’s gaze, he snaps out of it and with a desperation that he is now all too familiar with, he grabs the younger man’s face and kisses him square on the lips, biting down almost hard enough to draw blood.

“If-if-if it comes down to it, I want you to kill me,” Phil demands harshly. He nearly retches in his mouth.

“What?”

“If I had a choice of how I died in The Purge,” Phil continues and there are tears welling up in his eyes, his voice breaks on several words.  “I want you to kill me, because I don’t want to die at a stranger’s hand.”

He stares back at the other man, and his own voice is gone and he can’t figure out what to say. He’s running out of time because Tony and Jamie have definitely broken down the false wall enough to see the metal grate behind.

This could be Phil’s last wish, he should respect it. But this is also something he definitely doesn’t want to do. His hands clench into fists. “You’re not going to die,” he says firmly and he stares Phil straight in the eye.

“You promised me that you would stay alive, and you are going to keep that promise. I forbid you to die.” Phil’s mouth quirks up in the corner, a resigned smile on his face, and so he grabs hold of Phil and reiterates his words.

“You promised me. Stay alive. We’ve got shit to do after together,” he hisses.

Phil stares back at him, eyes wide and scared, and the metal gate bangs and creaks uglily as they break it down as well. There’s a loud groan as they discover the second false wall and again, bangs echo through the room as they start to break it down. His eyes focus over Dan’s shoulders on the blocked door, and as the bang resonates, his eyes flick back to Dan’s face and scan it up and down, as if he is memorising it.

“Promise,” he whispers.

*

It is almost anticlimactic when they break the door in. In fact, watching them clamber awkwardly over bulky furniture makes the moment ten times less serious. But their hearts start pounding again when the dim light in the room catches on the sleek knives in their hands.

“Look who we found!” Tony laughs and Jamie cracks a smile behind him, twirling the knife in his hand.

“Congratulations,” Dan finds himself answering sarcastically, and he wants to slap himself the moment all eyes cut to him. He just had to open his mouth and now the men are advancing towards him.

“You managed to find two people,” he then hears Phil say, and he turns to see the older man back ramrod straight, staring at their attackers with a bored look on his face. His voice is thick and strong, with no hint of fear at all.

The two other men stop and almost in synchronization, they laugh cruelly. “I didn’t know it was make friends with your attacker day!” Jamie comments. “You two are so funny, it’s hilarious. I could-”

“-die happy,” Tony completes and Dan looks across at Phil with a moue of consideration. “It’s crazy how we finish each other’s-” he half sings and Phil immediately catches on, jumping in with “Sandwiches”.

“That’s what I was going to say,” they both sing at the same time. Immediately, Tony and Jamie look less amused and more irritated. Tony switches his grip on his knife from left to right, and drawls, “Not only do we have two jokers here, but we have singers too.”

“We’re here for your entertainment,” Phil retorts and Tony grins in response. “Glad to see you catching on!” he crows. “Let’s cut to the chase. You are here for our entertainment, and we plan to enjoy it for as long as we can.”

Dan’s eyes glance over at Phil’s watch, there’s only a little over half an hour left and a half formed plan develops in his head. If he can distract them for the remainder of The Purge, and surprise them during the last few minutes, they could just survive the night.

“Kinky,” he croaks out and he’s disappointed with the way his voice breaks on the word. Jamie tilts his head and he smiles slowly, eyes dragging up Dan’s body. He resists the urge to flinch, instead staring at the space between Jamie’s eyes, pretending to be making eye contact.

“Is that how it is?” he asks flirtatiously and Jamie takes a step closer to Dan. He in return only tilts his head, as if beckoning his attacker to come closer. Phil immediately bristles and Tony jumps on the opportunity immediately.

“Looks like someone is a little jealous,” he crows and Dan minutely grimaces over his loud, abrasive voice. Jamie immediately steps in, he is in Dan’s personal space, and Phil reaches over, shoving a hand in between them.

“Don’t touch him,” Phil demands and Jamie snarls in return, turning over to the other man. He holds up the menacing knife, and turns it this way and that, letting it catch on the light in the slowly brightening room.

“Who are you to stop me?” Jamie demands and Dan sees Phil’s hand twitch as he makes an aborted movement to reach behind his back. Immediately, Jamie plants his hands against Phil’s shoulders and shoves. Phil stumbles back against the wall and now Jamie is in his personal space, except now he has a knife against Phil’s throat.

He takes a step towards Phil but Tony jabs out his knife, and beckons Dan away from the other two. “No, no, no,” he rebuffs with a little smile twisting his mouth. “Away from the lovely couple.”

It is his turn to bristle, and Jamie smiles at him over his shoulder, pressing the knife even more tightly against Phil’s neck. “You two are so cute,” he coos. “I love seeing couples fight at the end of their lives, it adds a bit more drama and flair to the night.”

“Done this a lot then?” Phil asks and Jamie turns back to him, nodding enthusiastically. “I’ve got a lot of practice,” the attacker says brightly. “I could slit your throat right now, and you’ll die within seconds, choking on your own blood. And I wouldn’t even get a single drop of blood on me.”

His mouth is dry, and he peers desperately at Phil’s watch, trying to get the time from its obscured position behind Jamie’s body. Only 10 minutes left and they’re free. The cold metal of his own knife presses against his back and the cool touch shocks him into action.

“Jamie,” he blurts out. “You don’t have to do this.” The man freezes and he cranes his head to look at Dan. “Excuse me?” he asks and Dan licks his dry lips and tries to keep his heart under control.

“You don’t have to do this,” he begins. “I know you don’t want to. You were dragged into this mess, you can just leave and we can forget all this ever happened.” Tony makes a noise of outrage from behind him but he presses on, watching the knife lighten up slightly from Phil’s neck. “I heard you just now, you didn’t even want to come into this room. You just wanted to move on from this building, but Tony forced you to stay on. You can say no, you can just walk out, no one would think any less of you.”

He keeps an eye on Phil’s watch the whole time.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

“He would,” Jamie mumbles, eyes flickering over to Tony, but Dan shakes his head, drawing the attention back to him.

“Ignore Tony,” he insists. “Fuck Tony. You didn’t want this, you just want to get away from this clusterfuck. You can do that right now. There’s still time. Just walk out.”

“Jamie, don’t you fucking dare!”

Nine.

Ten.

Eleven.

The knife has completely left Phil’s neck, he has enough space to move around and not get injured, if he is careful enough. He breaks eye contact with Jamie for a split second and meets Phil’s blue eyes. The flash of understanding flies through them and the moment the second hand on their watches hit twelve, the both of them jump.

They grab hold on the knives behind their backs and pounce. He manages to catch Tony’s arm on his knife, opening an arm-length cut. Unconsciously, the man hisses and he releases his knife to grab his arm. Dan flings himself forward and shoves, sending Tony flying into the makeshift blockade behind him. As the attacker crashes, he leaps forward and pushes a chair over. Tony lands in an uncomfortable mess of wood and he can only look up for the barest second before the chair crashes onto his head. Dan can see his limbs go limp under the cover of the chair and he can’t even catch a breath before he hears a sharp cry. He turns and Phil is wrestling with Jamie, a knife bare centimeters from his face. His heart leaps up into his throat and he reaches for his knife, running over to Phil. Jamie looks over at Dan for a moment, and that is enough for adrenaline to take over and for Phil to pin him down onto the floor. The knife is still in Jamie’s hand though and Dan brings up his foot and brings it down as hard as he can onto their attacker’s wrist. He doesn’t think he broke it but Jamie screams out loudly and the knife clatters onto the floor. Phil drives his knee into Jamie’s groin and the scream abruptly turns into a whimper before he passes out.

Immediately, the alarms blare again and a heavy weight lifts off Dan’s chest. He turns to look at Phil and the same emotionally exhausted look is returned. Both of them collapse onto the floor next to each other and Dan reaches over, running his hands over Phil’s arms.

“You okay?” he asks, amidst the blaring sirens and Phil nods back, sinking his head onto his shoulder. Their hands are pressed against each other’s backs as they draw shaky breaths in each other’s embrace.

They survived the night. Somehow the two of them managed to survive and they might not have even killed anyone despite coming close to it more than once. He buries his nose in Phil’s neck and breathes in the scent of cinnamon beneath sweat and adrenaline. They get another chance, he thinks to himself. They survived and now they get another chance with each other.

That’s a good enough reason to have lived.

*

There’s a bit of blur over the morning. They managed to tie Tony and Jamie up and deposit them outside for them to be cleared. Phil manages to avoid looking at the burnt down shop across the street.

He doesn’t remember much, if he is being honest. He remembers tidying up as fast as he could and trying to put their broken furniture together before giving up. He remembers attempting to slump his way back into his own room, only to be stopped by a tug on his sleeve. He remembers turning to see Dan, eyes downcast, and he follows the light pressure on his sleeve. They climb into Dan’s bed together, and curl beneath the covers, eyes staring at each other as one of them turns off the light.

He thinks that he wouldn’t be able to sleep, what with the adrenaline still coursing through his system, but he follows the rhythmic sound of Dan’s breaths and before he knows it, he drops off into dreamland.

When he wakes up, he sees Dan turned on his side, facing away from him. The boards had been groggily pried off the windows and he can see that the night has returned. The room is filled with the dim light from a flickering streetlamp and there’s a faint glow throughout the place. He shifts closer to Dan, leaning in to feel the heat from his body.

He can’t quite believe the day they had. He can’t believe that after all this time, Dan might still be in love with him.

Dan might actually love him back.

Suddenly, the distance between them is much too long and he moves in even closer. Sometime during his sleep, or maybe before, Dan had removed his shirt and now up close, he can see the tiny moles and freckles dotting his bare back. He can smell Dan’s body wash and shampoo and now he needs to be even closer. So he angles his head forward and presses a kiss onto one of the moles on his back. It’s immediately like an addiction, he needs to keep on doing it, and he does, pressing another kiss and another and another, working his way down the back.

He can hear Dan’s breathing lighten and the younger man rolls over onto his back. Phil crawls over, hovering above his legs, and he presses his mouth against the hipbones peeking out over Dan’s pants. His hands shake as he slowly pull them down, exposing more and more of Dan’s flesh.

He pecks every inch of skin that he slowly reveals until Dan’s pants are around his ankles. His cock lies soft on his thigh and Phil can feel his mouth slowly fill with saliva. Tentatively, he licks up the organ, stopping now and then to kiss the spft flesh beneath his mouth. He reaches the tip and he feels inordinately pleased at the sight of Dan’s penis growing.

He licks at the tip, and then he does it again and again, quick kittenish licks at the head and he moans quietly when the first slow drop of precum wells up against his lip.

Dan’s hips are slowly thrusting up into the air now, and Phil gently presses them down. He opens his mouth and he slowly slips his lips down Dan’s cock. He lets his mouth to fill with even more saliva and then he leisurely fucks his own mouth, rocking up and down. The erection slides in and out of his mouth, and he enjoys the wet slop he hears whenever he works almost all the way down Dan’s cock.

Suddenly, he feels hands on his head and he peers up to see Dan, hair mussed from sleep, but eyes bright and clear, focusing on him sucking his dick.

“Phil,” the other man pants and he pulls off, leaning up to kiss Dan deeply, licking inside his mouth the same way he had treated his cock. When they separate, a thin string of saliva connects their lips and Phil winks, and slides his mouth over his erection again, feeling the vibrations through Dan’s body when he whimpers and rocks up into his mouth.

He is out of practice, but he relaxes his jaw and his grip on Dan’s hips. The other man immediately pumps his hips twice, and Phil can feel Dan’s cock brushing against the back of his throat. The wet slop causes Dan to stop and he whines, sucking hard on the erection in his mouth, gazing up at him from underneath his eyelashes.

Red has flooded the other man’s cheeks, and his chest expands and contrasts rapidly as Dan pants. His fingers are fisted white into the sheets of bed and his voice is pitched high when he begs, “Please Phil.”

Phil pulls off once more, and his mouth stretches into a smirk. “Go on then,” he purrs. “Fuck my mouth.”

There’s a whimper and Dan’s hips begin to rock forward again. His cock bumps repeatedly into the back of Phil’s throat and the sloppy sound causes Phil to moan in pleasure. Dan pumps his hips repeatedly, and Phil can see his wide eyed look of surprise and admiration as he watches his dick slide between reddening lips.

He reaches up and cups the balls in his hands, fondling them in his hand as he watches them draw up higher and higher. The whole time he is feeling himself choke on Dan’s cock, and his eyes water as Dan lingers a little longer each time. He can see the younger man watching him with concern and he releases the balls to grab Dan’s hands, squeezing them in assurance. He really wants to feel himself choke on Dan’s erection and so he whines in desperation, sliding his mouth even further down, as far as he can go.

He mewls again and this time Dan complies eagerly. His hands can’t come around fast enough to grab Phil’s head and he gently presses him down onto his dick, watching as the distance between his lips and his groin grow smaller.

“Come on, Phil,” he encourages. “You can do it.” The praise relaxes him and his jaw unhinges a little bit more, and finally Phil’s is touching his groin and he can feel Dan’s cock down his throat. Already, air is harder to come by, but it only makes him harder in his own pants, and so he takes it all, luxuriating in the love he can feel. Tears spill over his eyes and his hands scrabble at Dan’s thighs before the pressure relaxes and he can lean back and catch his breath.

Dan collapses to his knees and he crawls forward, pressing his mouth eagerly against Phil’s. His own hands scramble up to Phil’s shoulders and he feels himself being tugged forward, pressed against the other man from chest down. There are hands on his jeans, and the sensation of a zipper being drawn over his penis, and now there are hands in his pants, shoving them eagerly down. He hisses as he feels Dan’s erection against his, and they grind easily, the slippery precum easing the way.

“Phil,” he hears Dan pant out and he looks up just in time to see the other man press his forehead to his. His breath washes over his face with each exhale and the words sound in his ears as he hears, “I’m not going to last.”

“Me neither,” he assures shakily and he wraps a hand around them both and the added friction nearly sends him over. Dan helps a hand around his and together they thrust up into the tight space between their combined hands. He can feel his balls drawing up and heat in his belly and his hand strokes up and down almost uncontrollably. “Dan,” he huffs, “Please, please-”

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before Dan comes with a loud grunt, spilling over their two hands. The sight of Dan, hair disheveled, face and chest blotchy, teeth biting into pink lips, send him over and he whites out for a moment as he comes, with Dan’s name on his lips.

Time blurs for a while and when he comes back to himself, he is curled up with Dan in his arms, chest still heavily heaving as they try to catch their breath.

“Wow,” he says and Dan silently nods in agreement, lip still caught between his teeth. He looks extremely kissable and so Phil indulges, leaning over to pull his lip free so he can kiss him as deeply and sincerely as he wants.

“I love you,” he breathes when he pulls away and at Dan’s look, he continues, “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I just don’t feel right doing this if I don’t at least say it clearly for once. I have loved you since the day we met and I want you to be mine.” The brow furrows and Dan shakes his head, and Phil’s heart is about to drop when Dan speaks.

“Phil,” he says and he sounds like he usually does when he says his name, except there is more warmth in his words right now and Dan shakes his head again in disbelief. “Phil, of course. I love you, you spork. I’ve loved you since forever.”

His heart almost jumps out of his chest in happiness and he smiles like he hasn’t done in a while. “Really?” he questions and Dan rolls his eyes, but that’s alright because Dan nods his head again and buries it in his shoulder.

Phil lets out a sigh of relief, and he smiles down at the mop of hair next to him. He reaches his hand out and so does Dan. They intertwine their fingers together and it feels as if the final puzzle piece had been slotted in. It feels like contentment.

Yes, they live in a corrupt and cruel world and they are facing the unknown. The government might be evil, humans might be inhumane, but at the very least they are not alone. For they have each other, and for now, it is okay. They have each other by their sides for the foreseeable future and at the end of the day, they will get through life together.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [bisexvalannalise](http://www.bisexualexhamilton.tumblr.com) on tumblr!
> 
> Also, you and I both know I'm weak af and I didn't actually watch The Purge so if you spot something inconsistent with the movies I'm sorry.
> 
> And if you loved this story, feel free to tell me below in the comments.
> 
> P. I'm still on hiatus, sorry bruh.


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